


out of sight (on my mind)

by empathieves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dyslexia, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate AU where your Mark symbolises your Soulmate's passion, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathieves/pseuds/empathieves
Summary: Marcus Flint is five when his Mark appears. It’s a Quaffle, and it doesn’t change shape for another eleven years.Oliver Wood is twelve when his Mark appears. It’s a Bludger, and he knows that whoever it belongs to, they’re meant to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed, quick Flintwood fic. Trying to write more :)

Oliver doesn’t really think about his Mark, because it hasn’t appeared yet. He’s eleven, on his way to Hogwarts, and he still hasn’t seen any strange shapes on his body. He’s wondered, in an absent sort of way, why his soulmate doesn’t have any passions. He can’t really imagine that he would be partnered up with someone boring. He’s also wondered whether he has a soulmate at all. It should distress him, but it doesn’t. Romance doesn’t really interest him. He puts it down to the fact that he’s 11, and far more interested in Quidditch than anything else. He’s always been more interested in Quidditch than anything else. 

His Mark doesn’t appear til his second year, when Quidditch tryouts start. It’s on his right shoulder, and it’s in the unmistakable shape of a bludger. It flies around lazily, like it’s looking for someone to target.

Oliver looks at it in the mirror and feels his heart singing. It’s obvious they were meant to be.

 

Marcus thinks about his Mark all the time, because it’s on his fucking forearm and every time his sleeve slides up it’s right there, staring up at him. It’s still a Quaffle. It’s always going to be a fucking Quaffle. He wonders, sometimes, who his soulmate is, because as school goes on and he makes more and more enemies it seems more and more ridiculous that he even has a soulmate. He wonders if there’s been some cosmic mistake, and all his Mark means it that Quidditch is, in some fucked up way, his actual soulmate. It makes a much sense as anything. It’s the only thing he enjoys at school - all the subjects are too difficult, the words shifts around in front of him when he tries to read his textbooks, he’s clumsy when he’s on the ground. He feels too big, too unwieldy, too much. 

It never feels like that when he’s flying. And Quidditch tactics feel natural too, instinctive in a way nothing else ever has been.

 

Oliver’s mark changes when he’s in his fifth year. His heart sinks when he sees that instead of the familiar Bludger on his shoulder, he’s got some kind of plant. He looks closer at it, trying to figure out what it is, and then turns his head.

“Percy, what do you think this is?” he says, pointing at his shoulder. He knows Percy’s been studying wandmaking for some reason in his spare time; the guy goes through a different academic pursuit every few months. Percy frowns at him, before closing his book and getting up.

“It looks like an olive tree. Yeah, I’d say that’s definitely it.”

Oliver looks at it again and feels something very much like hope.

 

Marcus doesn’t _want_  to start obsessing over Oliver Wood, but it happens anyway.

Wood is brazen and rude, funny and scornful and whipsmart all in one tall, breathless package. He’s also one hell of a Captain and a brilliant Keeper.

Marcus is a little bit in love. He hates it. If he felt inferior before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels like now. If anyone finds out, he’s fucked. He can’t say anything to him, that much is certain.

He also doesn’t know how long he can deal with Wood’s stupidly smart insults without pushing him up against the nearest flat surface and kissing him.

(part of him almost hopes it happens while they’re in the air, because a) fucking hot and b) he could just fly away afterwards)

 

He’s in sixth year, and his Mark changes. He doesn’t know when _exactly_  it happened, but his sleeve slides down while he’s working on an assignment (Malfoy figured out that he was dyslexic the first time he mentioned the words, and taught him a pretty easy spell to help - he’s never said thank you, but he does keep an eye on some of the more voltile upper classmen who might have a grudge against Malfoy’s family). And there’s something that is _definitely_  not a Quaffle there. It looks like a rock. Sharp, pointy, kind of transparent looking, but definitely not a Quaffle.

He asks Malfoy about it later, figuring that anyone as smart as him might have some idea of what the rock is. Other than a rock. He squints at it for a minute.

“Let’s go to the library,” he says, and he grumbles but he follows the kid up.

“Here,” Draco says a half hour later, after thumbing through a few books. “I think it’s this.”

“Flint?” he reads off the page, and then frowns. “Is that a joke?”

“No. It’s the closest fit. It could also be a few other things, but considering how Marks usually work, this makes sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“They tend to be absurdly ironic, that’s all. Cliched romance is kind of what they’re all about.” Draco says, and he rubs at his right arm like it’s itching.

 

Marcus Flint finally kisses Oliver Wood after their last match against each other in seventh year. It’s messy and awkward and Oliver’s hair is a windswept mess, and it’s in the locker rooms so everything still smells sweaty and terrible because their teams have only left, but -

it feels like coming home.

 

(when he sees Oliver’s mark he wants to punch himself in the face, because _seriously_? his _passion?_   _since fifth year?_  but Oliver has this little smile on his face, curling at his edges, and instead of punching himself he kisses the Mark because okay, yeah, his _passion_. _of course.)_


End file.
